


Falling Slowly (Eyes That Know Me)

by Chessur



Series: A Night to Remember [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 15:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chessur/pseuds/Chessur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>April 21: After some persuasion from his younger brother, Dean Winchester decides to ask the school-outcast to senior prom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Slowly (Eyes That Know Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the novel 'Carrie' by Stephen King, and the films of the same name. Written for the Logan and Brock Verse on Tumblr by scaredycas and dedicated to my good friend, the lovely welcometothemasturbatory.
> 
> The title is from the Oscar-winning song "Falling Slowly" by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova.

**Tuesday, April 21, 2009**

Dean Winchester scuffed the toe of his worn blue Converse against the porch floor-boards, a rough, calloused hand pulling out of his jacket pocket to knock on the screened door-frame.

About a minute passed before he knocked again and, when there was no answer, Dean huffed. He ran a hand through his spiked blonde haired and turned to climb down the steps. Sammy would at least understand if he _tried_.

There was shuffling behind the main door before it slowly opened, revealing a short, raven-haired boy. The reason he was here in the first place. Wide, doe-like baby blue eyes peered up at him, first in fear…and then in curiosity.

“Hi, Cas.”

Castiel blinked at the nickname, his head tilting to the side, “Hi.” No one had ever given him one of those before.

Dean smiled at the younger boy, in turn, causing him to apparently shrink into himself. He still wore that old, over-sized trench coat at home, apparently.

“What are you doing here?” Stepping outside he pulled the main door closed, leaving it cracked only an inch. Dean noticed Castiel was about a head shorter than himself.

He smiled at him, leaning a shoulder against the faded wood. “Can I come in?” he asked, before Castiel looked inside the house and shook his head, “Why not?”

“F-father’s sleeping…” he said, “What do you want?” His voice had trailed off at that.

“I wanted to ask you about prom again—

“I--I already told you no.”

“Yeah, but there’s nothing I can’t say that won’t change your mind,” the older boy responded giving Castiel his trademark smirk. 

 _“Why are you doing this, Dean?”_ the raven-haired boy desperately queried, his chin trembling.

Dean straightened his back. Why _was_ he doing this? Why _was_ he on the front porch of the school outcast, two seconds from getting down on his knees, begging him to let the older boy take him to prom? How would that look? Most of the school made it clear where the young Novak stood with them.

This was the kid whose father Zachariah, was the town’s religious nut, always going door-to-door preaching about how everybody on earth was headed down the path to Hell unless they changed their ways and accepted Jesus into their lives.

Obviously, Dean’s popularity was on the line here.

And once the school gym teacher, Coach Uriel, learned of what Sam had planned, both Winchesters found themselves in his office, receiving a stern lecture about bullying or whatever. Dean might have been mischievous and played the role of the school’s bad-boy but he’d never go out of his way to tease or bully Castiel. He wasn’t like Lucifer and Michael, who, according to Sam, orchestrated their entire gym class to throw packs of condoms at the poor boy one morning.

In a further desperate attempt to talk the boys out of it, Uriel the Prick even had the gall to ask in a condescending tone, while glaring pointedly at Dean: “Don’t you think you’d look rather silly dancing at your prom with _Castiel Novak?_ ”

And _Dean_ was the bad guy?

Now at full height, and with his attention on the blue-eyed boy, the eldest Winchester replied, “Because I want to—

“No, you don’t— 

 _“Castiel!”_ a booming voice bellowed from inside, startling the younger boy. Dean nosily tried to look above Cas’ head through the crack of the door.

“Y-you have to go, Dean…”

“Not until you say yes,” the blonde argued, now folding his arms.

“I _can’t_.”

“Yes, you can…”

"Dean, please..." he ended on a soft whmper.

_“Castiel, come inside, **now**.”_

The younger boy visibly trembled at that and he stared up into green eyes, silently pleading for the other to just _leave him be_ before he caused trouble for _both_ of them, "Dean..."

"Cas."

“Why is this so important to you?”

“It’s not, just—” he broke off into a humorless laugh, shrugging his shoulders, "Because..." the other boy stared back at him in confusion, mixed with hurt. Dean rubbed the back of his neck, taking a deep breath, before shrugging again, “I don’t know… Because… you liked my poem, I guess,” he said, referring to the one Mr. Crowley had read aloud in class earlier that week, if only to try to humiliate Dean, “And you weren’t a dick about it.”

Castiel’s almost inaudible, gravelly voice had spoken up on his behalf that day, claiming his poem was “beautiful.”

Of course, the entire class laughed at him.

But Dean had been sort of touched. It was the first assignment he’d ever worked hard on, been proud of. Truthfully, it was the one reason Dean had agreed when his little brother tried to convince him to ask the school—the town—loner to the biggest night of the year for a teenager.

So, it wasn’t a complete lie.

“You shouldn’t blaspheme, Dean…”

He’d be lying if he said he didn't find _that_ adorable.

_"Cas- **TIEL**!”_

And now the young boy had looked petrified, as if the Four Horsemen had come for him at last. He squeezed his eyes shut, before calmly exhaling, counting to five in his head, and regarding Dean through slightly feminine eye-lashes.

_“Okay.”_

Dean’s smile widened, “So, you’ll go?”

“Yes, I’ll go.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at se—” He had no time to finish as in a split-second Castiel slinked back into the house and shut the door after him, “I’ll pick you up at seven!” 

Stepping off the porch, he made his way back to the Impala, parked at the end of the driveway. He’d make prom a night to remember for Cas, and hopefully, help bring the young introvert out of that stifling shell.

And maybe even fall for him along the way.


End file.
